


Never Trouble Trouble Till Trouble Troubles You AKA: Five Times Tony Got Into Trouble (Not Really) And The One Time Steve Did

by Thementalistlover2013



Series: How To Whump Tony Stark (AKA: Anything & Everything Tony) [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bottom Tony Stark, Bromance, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Returns, Clint Is a Good Bro, Feels, Hurt Tony Stark, Husbands, Kidnapping, M/M, Mario Kart, Multi, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Poor Tony, Protective Bruce, Protective Team, Science Bros, Sleep Deprivation, Steve Is a Good Bro, Super Soldier Serum, Team Feels, Team as Family, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:44:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thementalistlover2013/pseuds/Thementalistlover2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which trouble follows Tony like a shadow and he doesn't appreciate it, and then, it finally latches onto Steve.</p><p>AKA: Tony doesn't like to sleep. Tony doesn't like his body. Tony doesn't like his asshole husband and the kidnapping and rescue that follows. Tony doesn't like being sick and he sure as hell doesn't like Steve (his no longer an asshole husband) and Bucky there to witness it. Tony doesn't like getting crushed by buildings, but he'd rather it be him than his (no longer an asshole) husband, and thanks Bucky, but he doesn't need you to rescue him either, because you're still kind of an asshole even if he loves you.</p><p>Also, Steve, why'd you break Bucky's arm? Very asshole-y.</p><p>(Basically Tony has been given enough misfortunes and would really appreciate somebody sending a few serendipities to his P.O. box through express mail, thanks, that'd be great.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cruel and Unusual Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and summary are complete rambles, I apologize. Let me know what you think about this 5+1! 
> 
> Warnings are in tags, story contains: Kidnapping, mentions of body dysmorphia, lots of angst and drama and feels and cussing and my specialty, sarcasm. Cool? Cool. Thanks for clicking, go 'head and read below!

1.

"Tony?"

"... _Steve_."

"Tony, what're you doing?"

"Not you."

"That's not very nice."

Tony sneered from underneath Clint's car, hoping that Steve could feel his wrath through the turbocharged four-cylinder engine above him.

"Get that look off of your face. That's not a very nice look-"

Tony dropped (slammed, _oops_ , sleep deprived genius over here) his wrench onto the concrete floor, metal clanking against the empty garage walls, echoing obnoxiously in the silence. Tony was breathing hard and he was frustrated and exhausted and sleep deprived and Steve said he wasn't very nice and that translated into you're the _spawn of Satan,_ Tony, you _fucking asshole fuckup_ in Captain America speak and-

"Stop thinking so hard, buddy. What's on your mind?"

"Clint's shocks are screwed to all hell and I'm trying to get these damned-"

"Language."

"These darned- okay, you know what, I don't care right now, because these stupid _ass, motherfucking, cunt sucking_ -"

" _Tony_."

"Bolts _won't_ come off!"

The smaller man felt a family of gentle fingers at his ankle and sighed, allowing Steve to pull him from underneath the sedan. Tony closed his eyes against Steve's unbearably disappointed face as he laid against the dolly, back tight and sore from hiding underneath Clint's car for so long.

"I'll help with the extraction process after you go to bed. Tony, open your eyes." Steve's voice was closer now, he was crouching, as if Tony was some injured and disoriented (which wasn't far from the truth - he'd cut himself a few times underneath the engine and he was nearly always disoriented when he went on a maintenance bender) victim.

"You want me to open my eyes to go to bed? Seems a bit backwards. Lab lights are too bright, anyway. _How_ unfortunate."

Steve shook his head, chuckling a bit. He looked towards the ceiling and Jarvis dimmed the lights without being prompted. Tony kept his eyes closed despite it.

"Lights are dimmed, Tony."

"Don't believe you."

"Well, why don't you take a look for yourself."

"Too much of a risk. That'd be a stupid move, Steven. I'm a very intelligent person, you know this."

"I do know that, Tony. But, it's only stupid if the risk was actually a risk. The only thing you've got to face is me-"

"And my poor, overworked eyes being blinded by the fluorescents above us."

"Overworked, huh?"

"I would never say such a thing. I'm a good little superhero who sleeps eight hours a day and even eats vegetables. How about that! Might want to take some notes."

Steve chuckled a bit, rolling bright blue eyes kindly as he nudged the dolly underneath his husband's back with a gentle foot.

"I know how long you've been up, Tony. I've already asked Jarvis, and fortunately enough, Jarvis didn't evade the question by hiding under a friend's vehicle."

"Jarvis' friends don't have cars-"

"Again. _Not_ the point, Tony. _Please_ , look at me."

Tony cracked open one blood-shot eye, glaring up at Steve with big brown bulbs surrounded by dark circles. Steve made sure to block the flow of emotions - worry, most of all - from his face, because it would only force Tony back into hermit mode.

"Thank you."

"Fuck you."

Steve smiled a bit, Tony huffed, rolling his eyes, the two of them spoke in unison:

"That's not very nice."

" _That's not very nice_."

Steve held out a giant palm, Tony grabbing it with greasy, lethargic fingers. Steve, the bastard, took it upon himself to lift Tony into his arms, swinging the shorter man's legs around his waist as he held him up. The blonde grinned, bright and innocent and happy. Tony could only manage a grimace as he buried his dirty head into Steve's pristine collard shirt. Steve's grip tightened on him as he started walking towards the stairs and away from all of Tony's beloved projects. The brunette sighed, sinking comfortably into his husband's beefy shoulder.

"I'm in trouble now, aren't I?"

"Oh, for sure." Steve stepped into the elevator, Jarvis taking them to their personal floor. "Bruce was not happy to hear that you'd been down here for, how long Jarvis?"

"Seventy two hours and thirty eight minutes, Captain."

Tony cringed, hiding his face away again.

"I can't imagine you're too happy either, huh?"

"Always happy to have you 'round, buddy."

"But?"

" _But_ I've used my override code to lock you out of the lab for as long as you'd been in there, emergencies exempt, of course."

"You know, my wise husband once said something very profound to me. I think it might open your eyes to what you're actually doing - which is locking a human out of it's natural habitat, by the way. Habitat conservation includes keeping said habitatee in their specific home - according to the National Wildlife Federation. I could get so many environmentalists on your ass, mhm-"

"What were you going to say, Tony? Something about your wise husband-"

"Of course that's the part you heard." Tony shook his head, allowing Steve to plop him onto the bed with careful hands. "And I was going to say that it _wasn't very nice_ , but-"

"But?"

Steve crawled up to him, and they were close now, nose to nose; the blonde studied every detail on Tony's exhausted face, promising to sketch it down once the smaller man fell asleep.

"But if you kiss me and my coffee breath then I'll accept that as a random act of kindness and you'll be exempt from all previous acts of _not_ niceness-"

Steve bent down and captured his lips, tasting the promised stale coffee and not minding one bit.

Tony looked at him expectantly, "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Where's my exemption? If you get one then it's only fair-"

Steve shut him up with a well timed kiss, shaking his head against Tony's lips.

"No, sorry. You're still in trouble."

Tony hummed thoughtfully as Steve toed off his shoes, wrapping his beefy arms around Tony's petite frame.

"This doesn't feel like punishment."

Steve smiled, "Cruel and unusual is still a thing, right?"

"I mean I suppo- _woah_."

Steve rolled them around, pulling Tony down against his chest, covering them up with the feather duvet and rubbing his back; a sure fire action that got him to sleep. The smaller man nearly purred, despite his previous frustration.

"Unusual punishment it is."

 


	2. Not So Average Situations - Not So Average Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of Body Dysmorphia.
> 
> "Now you're in trouble-"
> 
> Tony threw his hands up, rolling his eyes, "Great-"
> 
> "For thinking like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the support! Here's another late night (night for me, I'm not so sure about the rest of you) appreciation post. Longer, more detailed chapters ahead.

2.

"Lets go, Stark."

Tony continued to examine himself in the mirror, looking dissatisfied as he turned and pulled on his suit before turning and pulling again. Clint cocked a brow towards the petite man as he seemed to grimace at his own reflection; he looked as glamorous as always in his hand-made Kiton suit - the archer saw nothing but a handsome man in a nicely tailored outfit.

It seemed as Tony wasn't perceiving himself as such, and that, _that_ was interesting; self esteem issues only happened to people with low confidence (according to the general public) - Clint could've never pegged Stark as being anything but pompous and proud when it came to his looks. Everything else? Well, there was obvious issues - a regular civilian didn't throw on a suit of armor (never less build it in captivity) and start saving the world.

Tony wasn't average, Clint didn't think he'd ever been. Growing up in the spotlight like he did, surrounded by the press and hecklers, all judging him (or who they thought he was, who he used to be) and his appearance.

Definitely not an average situation.

"Stark?" Clint called again, stepping closer to the mirror, catching his own reflection next to the other man, who seemed hilariously distressed next to him and his always calm demeanor.

" _Not right_."

"Huh?"

"The suit. It's." Tony put his hands in his pocket, sucking on his teeth and shaking his head as he turned around yet another time. " _Too_...wrong."

"The people-"

"Fashion designers, Clint, you're going to a gala in a personalized Brioni-"

"Which I'm escorting you to. Speaking of which, it's starting in less than twenty five minutes, might I remind you-"

"Yeah, _yeah_ -"

"And you're wearing your fancy thingy-"

"Kiton, Clint. It's a Kiton. I know Paone personally."

"'Kay, cool, tell your husband about your Pacino friend-"

" _Paone_ -"

"when he's on Stark duty. After the gala, of course. Lets get going," Clint tapped his watch. "Twenty three minutes."

"But-"

"No buts," Clint reached out towards Stark, tightening his tie and straightening it out a bit. "You look great. Impeccable even." He slapped the shorter man's shoulders with two heavy palms, Tony flinching underneath him.

"But I don't." Tony pushed off of his hands, turning towards the mirror. "It's too. I don't know. I'm fat. Maybe we shouldn't go-"

Clint froze, looking Tony up and down. Never in his life had he been prepared for this moment. Natasha always looked great, she _knew_ she looked great. She was the only girl he knew well enough to compliment and if he'd ever dared she might've wore his guts as a scarf just to prove a point (disembowelment was not something he looked forward to).

Clint swallowed once, thankful that Tony was too caught up in his own image to notice his discomfort.

Where the fuck was Steve when you needed him? _How_ did you tell another man's husband that he was good looking, hot even?

"Listen, I can call Steve. Video chat. He and Natasha might not have met their-"

Tony sighed, shaking his head once again and looking to the ground. "No, no. It's stupid. If I blew their cover for _this_ -"

"Well," Clint stood tall, face neutral. "It's upsetting you, it's important to you, to look good-"

"It's not even that. I don't really want to talk about it." Tony inhaled, forcing a smile on his face. "I'm sure you've read it in my file, Clint. There's no need to ignore the elephant - _ha_ , that's kinda funny, because, well, elephants are fat, and that's what I see-"

Clint frowned against Tony's anxious ramblings.

"What you see?"

Tony swallowed, clicking his tongue once as he rocked back on his heels, a sure indication of his uncomfortableness. "Body Dysmorphia, Clint. Do I have to spell it out for you? It's got too many vowels, a weird silent 'p' chilling at the end. Really short terms for such a _fucking_ issue-"

"Tony, stop rambling." Clint's hands were on Tony's arms, holding him still. "Your...condition-"

"I don't have fucking cancer, Clint. You can say the word. I have everything and I still don't like myself. People have tumors and, and burns and scars and _shit_. They have a reason to be upset. I'm just-"

"Human?"

" _Whiny_ -"

" _Now_ you're in trouble-"

Tony threw his hands up, rolling his eyes, "Great-"

"For thinking like _that_."

"Just, don't hit my face. I'm already not digging myself, and purple is not my color-"

"I'm not going to _hit_ you, Tony, for fucks sake-"

"Sorry-"

"Just," Clint closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop apologizing. It's fine. You're fine, great even. Our timing is-"

"Less than fine?"

Tony nervously met Clint's eyes and the archer grinned softly.

" _Now_ you're making sense."

Tony smiled slightly, a sweet, self-deprecating curve of the lips that Clint had never witnessed before. Clint could imagine how he acted around Steve when they were alone, probably as insecure as the rest of them; it was just so odd to see _Tony Fucking Stark_ acting like that.

Acting like he wasn't perfect, like he was vulnerable.

Clint smiled back a little, although it didn't meet his eyes. He grabbed Tony's elbow, leading him away from the mirror. "You ready to go, champ?"

Tony settled into his side, sighing softly. He tried not to think of how Steve, his usual date, would make him look a bit thicker because of how lean his serum body was. Clint had some bulk to him, a little more mass, a little less height. It made Tony look thinner in comparison and if that was the only thought that got him through the night without feeling like absolute dog shit then he'd take it.

Tony had vanished back into himself, allowing Tony Stark to emerge. The cocky smile, the glittering eyes, the charm; all of it came out when he got into character.

Confidence came out too, even so, Tony felt himself sucking in a bit as they settled into the limo, hands crossed over his abdomen to hide any overflowing pudge.

Clint caught on immediately, and as the proper gentlemen that he was, he made sure to fix it; the archer wrapped his arm around Tony's back, pulling him close, hiding Tony into his side.

The car pulled from the sidewalk and Tony settled in closer to Clint, thankful for the paparrazi flashes on the windows, blocking his eyes from his own reflection.

The archer next to him pulled out his DS, holding out another to Tony, who rolled his eyes.

Clint smirked, "Twenty minutes to play Mario Kart before we have to act like grown men."

Tony grabbed the DS with eager hands and a newly found light in his eyes.

 


	3. To Be Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve leaves for Bucky. Tony gets kidnapped. Tony doesn't really mind it. 
> 
> Warning: Mentions of kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your support so far! Here's another chapter, far more detailed than the rest, I suppose. Enjoy! 
> 
> Song is Iron Man (Black Sabbath), references are Scooby Doo related; I own neither.

3.

He doesn't see them coming, not like he should've.

Fourteen hours of sleep per week (at most) wasn't cutting it. Tony could barely concentrate anymore. Steve and he had broken up two months (twelve days, twenty one hours, thirty seven minutes and eighteen seconds ago - not like anyone is counting) after the man had ran after Bucky; Steve had told him in his Captain voice that it just _wasn't going to work out at the moment,_ not with him out all the time rehabilitating Bucky. _It wasn't fair to anyone, wasn't right._

But Steve, the man with a plan, did it anyway; he left, abandoned ship - abandoned his husband. What kind of fucking plan was that?

"It's not you, it's not even me, it's Bucky. I just think he needs my attention right now and it's not _okay_ for me to ignore you-"

"So you're going to _completely_ cut me off? Just like that?"

Steve had gave him a cold apology with those fucking stone eyes (as if _he_ was the enemy) before taking his duffel bag and marching dutifully out of their bedroom, like a good little soldier. His bag was stuffed with all of the clothes that the brunette man had hand picked for Steve (after being thawed), folded with great detail, as if he'd been in their room hours before, packing carefully, as if he wasn't _leaving_.

Tony had, unfortunately for Steve (who was willing to leave and send a letter of apology later because he couldn't face the truth), walked in on the man gathering his things.

Months later, he was no better than he had been the moment Steve had single handedly declared the break.

Unfortunate situations usually birthed more unfortunate situations, like the fact that Tony could barely remember his own damn name and felt like a broken hearted teenager every time he spotted a guy who vaguely resembled Steve. Nightmares weren't filled with caves or space or even the usual like abusive fathering; no, every moment of his life revolved around Steve. Tony felt absolutely numb after the pain left, and gods, how difficult had that been? It was as if another bomb had struck and instead of adding shrapnel to his heart it tore a limb off, fiber by fiber, muscle by muscle. Like any other trauma he'd gone through, Tony had witnessed the pain, the hurt, and then, the feeling he had a love-hate relationship with, emptiness.

It was if something in another realm had heard him whining over some boy (his other half) and had shaken a finger at him, because one minute Tony was walking down the street, hoodie pulled tight around his frame, and then he was in a van.

Happy wasn't driving, Pepper wasn't next to him helping him practice his lines, there wasn't a foreign speech about new SI projects in his hand that he was supposed to have memorized the night before.

The vehicle was barren, stripped down completely to the bones, and Tony felt sorry for the machine as he was thrown roughly against her, probably denting her even more; he knew what it was like to be damaged and used, thrown around, stripped down to nothing.

Tony had slumped against the wall of the van, admiring the purr of the engine as he spit a tooth out before he choked on it. He looked up towards his captors and was met with a hearty (it was a good thing _someone_ had motivation) fist to the jaw. Tony tasted blood but paid no mind as men in the black mask took his hands and tied them together with crude rope (not exceptionally premeditated, Tony could feel the weak strands easily and it reminded him of himself; strong looking, barely functioning on the inside).

But Tony could do _this_ , this was before Steve, before the Avengers. Before everyone else. Kidnapping usually happened to kids, and Tony would be the first to admit that he'd been a child of hostage. He was good at this, this had instruction, a method, there was always a method.

Drive by was a little dramatic and pretty fucking sloppy, but Tony could admire the process; everyone was unique, and _everyone_ was stupid.

Everyone but him, of course (although, Tony was doubting it, because Steve had had the ability to destroy him with a few words and his absence - if Tony was smart, it wouldn't have gotten to him).

For now, Tony could relax. Things were out of his control, he should be panicking, screaming, fighting; but this was the first time that he wasn't around someone who wanted him to smile or laugh or talk about the weather; because he was _not okay_ , and now, he'd be able to act like it.

So Tony would relax, he'd enjoy the quiet murmuring of the men in the front seat and pretend that he was unconscious, boost the guys' fragile egos before he broke out of his binds, tied them up with something sturdier than a string of gum, and tore them apart.

He'd rip them to pieces, eat them up, destroy them.

Because Tony was going through a breakup and he had just wanted a coffee in a building full of strangers and this, _this_ was the first time he was feeling something towards another human post-Steve; Tony was full of rage.

He smiled a bit, running his finger over the rough van, letting her know that she was appreciated, that she was still beautiful.

It was nice to know that you were wanted, and for now, Tony was wanted.

It was nice to know that _someone_ wanted him.

\---

He'd fallen asleep in the van at a rest stop, where his captors had let him piss (mistake) before retying him.

Of course, they'd never even gotten close to rebinding him.

"You gonna hold my dick, Shaggy? Or should I just point, shoot and hope that it doesn't land on your light up Sketchers?"

His biggest captor, a man with longish hair and the never ending dank weed smell, rolled his eyes, looking as though he was thoroughly offended. His buddy, who Tony had nicknamed Scooby, due to his atrociously big (and soon to be broken) nose and constant sniffling (snorting crushed up 'Scooby Snacks'), had untied the rope around Tony's wrist. The petite man felt one of them shove him towards the bathrooms at the rest stop and Tony didn't spare anytime entering.

Upon further inspection, this was probably the moment where normal people might've ran. Or screamed. Or done anything but open the door and go back to them.

But Tony, no, he went into the single bathroom, calm as ever as he whistled 'Iron Man', pissing into a clogged toilet like it was an every day thing. He washed his hands with water (soap was out), dried them properly, and looked at his reflection.

His hoodie had blood stains, and that really sucked (favorite hoodie) but he could order three-hundred-and-sixty-five more for every day of the year when he got back; gods know he wasn't up for anything but vegetation after he got out of this hell hole. Tony's eyes were edged with dark circles, his face bruised (at least the swelling had gone down) and bloody. He washed up his cheek a bit, running cool water over his face.

One of the men knocked on the door impatiently, the two of them whispering back and forth like an old married couple (completely unprofessional - even if you were married kidnappers in need of some major couple counseling, because _hello_ , you're both _more_ than a little fucked up).

Tony drew his fist back, grinning at his face (ignoring the way his eyes looked dead and broken, how he looked sociopathic and completely unhinged) in the mirror before ramming his knuckles into the glass. Shards flew everywhere, and Tony, as calm as ever, turned off the sink, grabbing a few pieces along the way. He whistled again, changing up verses.

**_Has he lost his mind?_ **

_Can he see or is he blind?_

Can he walk at all,

_Or if he moves will he fall?_

_Is he alive or dead?_

_Has he thoughts within his head?_

_We'll just pass him there_

_Why should we even care?_

The men hadn't heard him over the water, so he shoved his improvised weapons in his hoodie pouch, opening the door and smiling at the two of them.

_Now the time is here_

**_For Iron Man to spread fear_ **

_Vengeance from the grave_

_Kills the people he once saved._

Shaggy had the nerve to look annoyed again, "What? Ya jerking off to Black Sabbath? _Freak_. Get out here, it's time to go-"

Tony had both hands in his hoodie pouch, Scooby looking utterly perplexed as he held the rope, as if Tony had flushed his hands down the drain. In one swift move, Tony took his hands out, shards in both palms. He held them out to Scooby, who sniffed once before rubbing his nose, nostrils rimmed with white dust. Scooby worked out a knot in the rope as Tony examined the two of them.

"So, what made two coke heads like you come after a guy like me? Money? More disco sugar?"

Scooby looked up from the knot, sneering a bit, "Listen up, ain't like we got a lot of money or nothin'-"

" _Isn't_ like you _have_ a lot of money, or _anything_." Tony repeated in understanding, nodding once, like he'd been there; like he could relate to two drug addicts.

He could relate to wanting things though, addictions. That made him even angrier.

"Ah, here we go-" Scooby, reached out for his wrists and Tony, in one fluid motion, took both shards, shoving them through the man's gut.

Shaggy didn't like that one bit.

"What the fuck are you doin'?!"

Shaggy lunged, reeking of rotten teeth and cat piss. He and Tony rolled for a bit, blood in between the two of them. Tony knew that if he didn't act, he wouldn't have the energy to do anything but die.

It didn't sound too bad in the grand scheme of things, but in the moment it was a game, something he could win, something he had control over.

Tony needed control; deserved it, even.

Shaggy ended up with a shard to the shoulder, blood spurting out in between the man's cries. Tony took the same rope Scooby would've used on him to tie up the man, who was now sniffling in pain (too weak to break it, pussy). He pulled his hoodie tie out and used it to wrap up Shaggy.

In the end, the three of them were seated against a mediocre rest stop, shivering against the cold concrete in the darkness of the witching hour.

Tony had pulled the van over to block the highway from spotting any of them, patting her sweetly before jumping into the back, facing the men as he laid on his side, head propped on his arm; like a child at a sleep over, telling innocent secrets.

Shaggy's teeth were chattering when he spoke, "Ya a sick bastard, ya know that?"

"I know a lot of things," Tony murmured out, "And I also know that I'm not the one who took you hostage. In the beginning of our pleasant time together, at least."

Tony got a laugh out of that, chuckling a bit, his voice echoing in the trees around him. He'd been enough places to know that he was somewhere in the mid-west, maybe Illinois; it smelt like there was a steel mill a couple dozen miles to the left of them, _smelt like Illinois_.

Boring, filled with blue collared workers and corrupt politicians.

Scooby interrupted his musings, sounding serious and a bit sad, "I'm gonna die."

"Nah. I've had worse."

Shaggy looked disturbingly intrigued, "Shank to the gut?"

Tony looked him dead in the eye for the first time since he'd been taken a mere two days ago.

"Shrapnel to the heart, surgery in a cave, add a sprinkle of torture and you've got the recipe-"

"For the sick bastard in my van?" Shaggy finished, smirking crudely, eyes a bit fearful. Tony shrugged, patting her.

"Guess you could say that, but she's _not_ yours anymore."

With that, Tony closed his eyes, shutting the van door and locking her up tight. He was tired of smelling them.

\---

A knock to his van awoke him the next morning. Red curls intercepted by sunlight came into view, and Tony squinted against her form, unlocking the door. She looked slightly amused. They looked at each other for a bit, the hustle and bustle of SHIELD filling in the silence.

"Sounds like you had a party last night. And the day before that."

Tony swung his legs out of the van, Natasha examining him with sharp eyes. Phil stood off to the left, watching them and his baby agents shoving both Shaggy and Scooby into SHIELD vehicles.

"Yeah," Tony rubbed his face, shaking his head. "Sorry you didn't get an invite. Didn't feel like you'd want to go, honestly. You know," He gesticulated towards the blood stains on the concrete and his face. "Mosh pits get a little out of hand sometimes. Didn't want you to mess up your hair."

"Such a good friend, Tony."

The shorter Avenger grinned, shrugging a bit, "Not everybody gets that impression."

"Not everybody kidnaps you from the side of the road. Or breaks your heart."

Tony's eyes turned cold and he went stiff, "Enough, Nat. You're trudging into a waist deep pool of shit and I don't see any waders nearby."

"Yeah, _yeah_. Just know that Steve and Bucky were the ones who found you." The redhead warned, gesturing to the two giant men standing off to the corner, all four of their eyes targeted on Tony and every move he made.

Tony gathered himself upwards, stretching a bit before slamming the van door. He patted her as an apology as he circled around, settling into the driver's seat. Natasha went to the passenger door and hopped in, examining the van's interior.

"You keeping her? I know you have an affinity for old and broken things-"

"Don't talk about her like that."

"So, yes." Natasha pulled out her phone, a tiny smile on her face, "You want me to have Pepper order some innards?"

"Yeah, GMC Vandura. First gen."

Tony shifted gears, rolling down the windows and pulling out. He didn't dare spare a glance at Steve or Bucky as he pulled onto the highway, cranking the radio to the highest volume.

Natasha looked up from her phone, red hair dancing around her face, impeccable curls now frazzled strands, screaming for help as the wind pulled and played with them. She was glaring at him and that was such a relief, because he wasn't broken and he didn't need to be coddled; Natasha seemed to be the only that was capable of understanding that notion.

"I didn't _promise_ that your hair wouldn't get a bit-"

A lock managed to get itself trapped between her lips and she spit it out with as much grace as she could. Tony listened to her speak, slow and quiet, with a hint of amusement; as if he hadn't just been kidnapped and taken and then rescued by the man that had hurt him the most - more than his captors ever could.

" _Now_ you're in trouble."

Tony could only grin as Black Sabbath played through crackling speakers.

_Heavy boots of lead_

_Fills his victims full of dread_

_Running as fast as they can_

**_Iron Man lives again._ **

 


	4. Unexpected Exes At Unexpected Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Bucky drop by the tower to check on Tony. Bucky gets out of hand (by grabbing Tony with his hand), Natasha and Clint deliver a beating disguised as a sparring session while Jarvis distracts Bucky, and Bruce defends his best friend. Steve vows to get Tony back, and Bucky is supportive of this, even if he'd just assaulted the man in question. All in a days work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support, again. Here's another chapter. I promise things will get better. Super husbands is still a go, and, well, from the tags you can see that Bucky squeezes in at some point. This is the last chapter I'm posting today (I don't know if anyone has noticed, but I've done two a day since I've started this little fic), so tomorrow will be the end of this particular 5+1. I've had a great time, and I assure you, it'll wrap up nicely in the end!

4.

Steve had come back. With Bucky. To his tower. To his _home_. With the man that may as well been in an affair with his husband; the reason Steve left was sitting on one of his couches in his tower on his _land_.

Just as Tony was getting over it, _it_ (the relationship, Steve, _everything_ ) had come back with a vengeance, like a fucking fungus in _between_ his ass cheeks.

And Tony was _sick_. Not just emotionally or figuratively. No. The flu had came and it had gone, but it had left him with chills and vertigo and nausea and a ritual of sleep and vomit and sleep and vomit and sleep an-

 _He was going to vomit_.

Steve was in his home. On the communal floor, asking about him.

(Later Jarvis had happily notified him that both Natasha and Clint had met him in the living room to 'spar', which soon turned into both of them beating his ass for everything he'd done while Bucky was occupied - distracted by a very sly Jarvis, specifically - with the high tech communal kitchen; Tony, despite the horror of the last few months, had found it increasingly hilarious every time the AI replayed the security footage.)

It had been two days since he'd gotten back from Illinois. His kidnappers had been patched up and interrogated, shoved in cells smaller than Tony's bathtub for the next ten years or so - that's not even counting the drug possession, apparently Shaggy and Scooby had been packing underneath all of that idiocy and BO.

Tony had locked himself down in the lab, allowing Bruce to leave him soup once. There had been no contact between him and anyone but Jarvis, the 'bots and Velma (the van). He'd been fixing her up, and had finally gotten the paint job done.

She was dark red with a gold interior, officially his after he'd doctored some documents (no longer Shaggy and Scooby's Mystery Machine, that's for sure). Velma had had all of his attention, and he hadn't even spared a moment to think about the man (or for fuck's sake, _men_ ) that might show up eventually to re-wreck everything he'd worked so hard to put back together.

 _Eventually_ turned into forty-eight hours, and now Tony was held captive (again) in his lab. He knew the moment that he stepped out of the confines of his safe haven he'd be swarmed by someone. Someone would tell _someone_ else that he had made the rare trip out of his workshop and Steve (and Bucky, _why_ the fuck was he here anyway) would end up hearing.

It'd go downwards from there, as if things could get any worse.

Tony had unfortunately not taken into account the notion that Jarvis (his, in this case, unfortunately, free-minded companion) would take his so-called best interests to heart and _invite_ the twin soldiers down to his lab.

"Sir, I had thought it the best plan of action, considering your condition and the fact that you hadn't advised me against it."

Tony was dry heaving over a trash bin that Dum-E was carefully holding when he'd heard the lab doors swishing open. He didn't dare look up, because ever since Jarvis had notified him he'd been bent next to Dum-E, the 'bot making sad little beeping noises every time he gagged or coughed. It wasn't even the flu anymore; now it was simply paralytic panic, the kind of anxiety that made your heart race and your breath stutter.

All he could do was try to breath through it and ignore Steve's delicious (even Bucky smelt nice) cologne) and familiar scent.

"Tony?" Steve's voice. _Of course_ it was fucking Steve.

Tony glanced up a bit, sweat coating his forehead, Dum-E suspiciously silent.

There were two bodies in front of him, one he had mapped out with his tongue, piece by piece; hell, it'd been _inside_ of him. The other was as unfamiliar as any, even if he'd seen pictures of the man; Bucky was a stranger, minus the arm of course, because it was part of the SI prosthetic line - _his prosthetic line_ , the shit he designed and built with his _own_ two hands.

That made him angrier, and he knew it was selfish and completely wrong to want to rip another man's prosthetic arm off, but Bucky had taken everything from him and that smug but worried (and why would he be worried, if Tony didn't see it as completely illogical, he would've blamed his _flu_ on the man - he definitely didn't need nor want anyone's pity, never less Bucky's) expression on his fac-

"Tony, you _look_ like you've got a fever." Steve moved forward, coming unbearably close to him. Steve reached out a hand without a second thought, and Tony, despite himself, flinched before that hand (the hand Tony was going to build a wedding ring for) met his skin. Steve nodded once, biting on his lip, tormented understanding in his eyes.

He pulled away, still near but still very far away. Bucky stood a few feet behind him as Steve took a seat on the ground, now level with Tony. Tony swallowed, shoving away the trash bin as he pushed himself upwards, staggering to his feet, using Dum-E's head as support.

Even being the same height as the man was too much, too close, too personal and reminiscent of his past life where Steve would hang around the lab, sitting in obscure places with his sketch pad.

Again, _too much_.

The bot, as if feeling the tension in the room, chirped lazily, head turning between the three of them as if he was confused by them or reprimanding them or _both_.

"Steve, if I have a fever it's because I've been around your bullshit for too long and have finally and fortunately developed an _allergy_."

"Tony-"

" _Steven."_ Tony breathed out, sounding resigned and defeated and simply _done_. He leaned against the nearest wall, dragging himself towards a work bench; he didn't want to collapse, but he didn't want to show weakness by looking as if he couldn't pull himself up off of the floor either - which, he really _shouldn't_ have done, by the way.

Bad plan. He looked up and gave Jarvis the _failed experiment_ look. Hopefully the AI would get the memo and mark it down in the books for the next time he decided to act all high and mighty in a predicament like this one (which, hopefully would never _ever_ happen again because Jarvis was in _trouble_ , Steve would leave with his Bucky _forever_ and Tony would feel better and get back to running himself into the ground, six feet wasn't that far to dig, really, it was just a matter of time after this setback).

A wave of nausea hit him like a truck and Tony breathed through it, closing his eyes, pausing his movements. Of course, Steve, _the fucker_ , decided he'd join in (again) and play the game of _Act Like Tony Is Incapable Of Everything In His Entire Life And Surround Him With Constant Love And Adoration Until Your Best Friend From Seventy Years Ago Shows Up, Then You Can Take Everything From Him And Leave Him Like Everyone Else._

It was very popular among people of all ages, although the rules changed a bit depending upon the circumstance; Rhodey was fond of taking his suit while others wanted his company or life. Seriously, a game for the whole family, he should patent it, really, make it worth his while.

"Monkey see, monkey do?" He heaved a bit, feeling breathless. "You really that underdeveloped, Steve?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, fond and jokingly as if they were buddies again; Tony could see underneath it all, though, the anguish, _the guilt_. Steve was back with Bucky to _say something_ , to _do something_ (two soldiers on a mission, like the good ol' days). Tony didn't know what though, and that's where the anxiety was stemming from.

Unexpected actions at unexpected times from unexpected (and uninvited, cough, Jarvis) exes _fucked him up_.

"Not underdeveloped, just worried." Steve's voice was calm and soothing, and Tony wanted to kiss him and hit him all at the same time.

"Yeah, whatever. _Why_ the fuck are you two here?" Tony muttered, knowing all too well just how mother hen Steve could get. Tony shoved away from him again, plopping down in his desk chair, steadying the wheels as he pulled his soldering iron out; anything to keep his eyes down and his head busy. Steve stepped on the other side of the work bench, examining Tony's work with admiration (some things never change). Bucky, _the fucker_ , moved even closer to them, looking as though he was protecting Steve (which was the _biggest_ fucking joke of the _year_ ).

Why couldn't he just tell them to leave, was it the curiosity, the joy that came from watching them sweat? It was his house, his _life_. Steve had no place here anymore (and Bucky never had), even if Tony never destroyed the prototype for the new wedding ring that he'd been formulating for their five year anniversary (yeah, Steve's goodness had rubbed off on him, in hindsight that was unfortunate).

And best of all, none of it had been Tony's fault. He had been a good husband, and that was the first and only time Tony had been able (even proud, how pathetic is that) to say that; no drugs, alcohol, he was even extra nice (as nice as he could be) and respected boundaries and did husband stuff - dates and remembering birthdays (Jarvis may have helped out, but it's the _thought that counts_ , right).

Bucky had decided to remerge and SHIELD had happened to catch him on some security footage or whatnot. In the end, Steve had searched the entirety of the fucking state to find his ' _brother_ ', and then he'd left; willing and able to do _anything_ (like take a break from his _husband_ , abandoning him) for _Bucky_.

You can see where this conflicted with Tony and Steve's relationship, or lack thereof, considering everything that had happened in the speed that it did.

"We, um, _I_ heard you were sick, and wanted to check in after the whole debacle in Illinois. Bucky helped me rescue you, and he wanted to make sure you were okay, too-"

Tony met Steve's eyes dead on, looking between both men for the first time since they walked in, smiling coldly, "Yeah, guys. Really, I'm cool as a cucumber. Especially after that part where you left me, your _husband_ ," Steve flinched as the words left Tony's silver tongue. "the minute you got a lead on your best pal over here. Then attempting to make up for it in Illinois was great too, really, it was a _nice_ touch."

Bucky stepped forward, looking angry as he rushed Tony at his seat, taking the smaller man by the hoodie collar and lifting him upwards.

Well, that escalated. Maybe now he'd get some answers because Steve was simply bullshitting around the proverbial bush and Tony was _tired_.

Tony felt his stomach flip but kept quiet, interested in the next form of action; this entire thing was very unplanned for two soldiers.

Maybe Tony should've struggled or hit his captor, but _this_ was _funny_ , this was something he'd been waiting for; somebody else fucking up. Tony enjoyed the moment, gasping a bit against Bucky's hand, grin never leaving. Something in the other man's eyes told him everything he needed to know. Bucky wouldn't kill him. It was a power play, albeit, a poorly planned one.

Tony was desperate and sad and needed Steve back, but he was tired of the games. Maybe this would be it. Being killed by his (ex?) husband's best friend wasn't how he imagined he would go, but it was always an option, especially after Steve left.

Steve was _screaming_ , and Bucky's prosthetic arm (the smaller man's creation) was holding Tony up by the neck. Gagging would be fruitless, because even if he'd wanted to puke all over Bucky's pretty face, it'd be difficult to get any bile past the fingers clamped around his throat. Choking on his vomit was the last thing he wanted to do, then again, kicking Bucky's ass and making Steve feel even guiltier were some of the first things he wanted to do.

As Tony hung in the air, as calm as ever, he was conflicted.

Steve delivered a swift hit to Bucky's back, despite not wanting to instigate anything related to the Winter Soldier; Tony was his main priority at the moment, since Bucky had taken his place, he'd deserved that much - deserved a lot more than that.

Suddenly Bucky's arms were holding (again, _rather unexpected_ ) him instead of killing him and Steve's hands, much gentler, were pulling him down to the ground. The blonde's reprimanding _Captain Voice_ was present as he cussed (and wasn't that _interesting_ , the Captain didn't cuss unless he was in battle, and even then it was a rarity) and scolded.

Bucky was looking at Tony like he'd enjoy another round and was terribly apologetic all at the same time, and didn't make everything that much sweeter. Like a teaspoon of honey in a warm cup of piss flavored tea.

Tony rubbed at his neck, grinning wildly, "Hah, you're gonna hafta do better than that." Tony sucked in air, wheezing so much that Steve looked panicked. "I can hold my breath for a _long_ time, Buckaroo. Go 'head and give it another squeeze if you'd like. Maybe Steve can video tape it, we'll end up on some fetish porn site. Make it big. It'll be your opening debut. Won't that be nice?"

"You listen here you punk ass _kid_ -"

Steve was holding Bucky back, looking apologetic and hurt. Tony tried not to feel good as Steve's best friend revolted against him.

"Bucky, really, I think you've done _enough_ -"

"Steve loves you, he _always_ will, and you've been an _asshole_ -"

"He might've loved me before, but you were always the precedent. If he loved me that much he would've stayed. Would've tried." Tony sucked in some air, greedy for what he could take. "Sorry, but you were out and about assassinating people when we had our fallout, so I don't know if I should really trust your judgment." Tony moved his hand from his neck, smile snarky and sarcastic. "Then again, you're obviously stable and _not at all_ unhinged. Maybe I need to reform _myself_. Sitting in my own home must be a crime nowadays. Worthy of assault."

Tony was scary when he got like this, and he knew it. He'd seen the video tapes of cold, lifeless eyes and a voice so monotone it sounded robotic. Like he was in the suit when the only suit on his body was black, framing a silk tie. It was survival mode though, and instead of panicking and throwing up all over the place, he needed to defend himself because no one else was here to do it.

It was the usual. He was alone and he needed to survive.

It looked like it was working though, because both Steve and Bucky looked furious and guilty all at the same time. Which was great, really, because Tony hadn't asked for this, hadn't even wanted Steve back.

(He needed Steve back, and Tony was rich and powerful and used to getting what he needed, what he wanted; unfortunately Steve was too good to be bought, too real.)

He was tired of needing, and he'd never been dependent upon people. People left and hurt you; when he heard the term _people_ , he thought of betrayal and pain, not love and trust. Steve had shown him nothing he hadn't seen or even expected; the man shouldn't feel that bad, really, he was tough, stronger than anyone could ever expect.

Maybe, Tony thought as he idly rubbed at his neck, _that_ was what hurt the most.

\---

Tony had stayed cool and collected.

Bruce? Not so much.

He had come down to the lab to check on Tony and had been pleasantly surprised to find his entry code in working order.

Pleasantries flew out of the door the minute he caught Tony's bruised neck and Steve and Bucky's forms in the middle of the room.

"Steve." Bruce had murmured in greeting, eyes a minty green. "Bucky."

The two soldiers nodded quietly. Tony looked up from his work, grin unnaturally wide as he absently rubbed at his neck with his left hand. He gesticulated towards the two super soldiers in front of him.

"Oh, Brucie. 'S great to have you. Look at what the cat dragged in."

"I _see_." Bruce's eyes never left Tony's neck, and the smaller man met his eyes, winking at him. Bruce didn't find it as comforting as Tony had wanted. His next words were mere growls. "Did the cat also choke you? I can call animal control."

"No, Brucie, chill."

"Chill?" Bruce moved to Tony, examining his throat. "I don't think so, if you don't want to bother anyone then I'll take the fucking trash _out_."

Said trash looked towards the ground. Steve cleared his throat.

"Dr. Banner-"

"Dr. Banner my ass." Bruce dragged Tony's rolling chair across the room, the man still perched upon it, squeaking hoarsely as he was directed gently to the adjacent wall, safe and sound. "You left him heart broken. And now, here we are. Sure looks like you did a bit of physical damage this time. Anyone like to fess up? The Other Guy isn't big on interrogation."

"Brucie-"

"Tony, for fuck's sake, stay right where you are; I don't want you to get hurt anymore than you already are."

Tony sighed, nodding once, murmuring under his breath, a hint of thankfulness in his voice. "I'll get your pants ready for when you're ready to come back home, buddy."

"See, like I said, my ass." Bruce smiled, skin an odd emerald tint, his voice terrifyingly quiet, "The Other Guy is fond of smash first, ask later. Speak while you're able. Consider this your Miranda Rights."

Bucky stepped forwards, looking towards the corner where Tony sat, folding a pair of pants. Bruce did the unimaginable as he slapped the man across the face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Don't. _You_. Dare. _Look_. At. _Him_."

Bucky obeyed, like a good soldier, standing straight at attention, respectful as he met Bruce's green eyes; Steve had told him about Banner and knew that when he started looking like a human green bean it was time to run.

Too bad he had already fucked up the plan; might as well roll with the punches, now.

"It was me. I apologize. I got out of hand, and uh, grabbed him with my hand."

Bucky flexed his prosthetic hand, looking apologetic and subdued compared to a few minutes before. Steve nodded once, gesturing towards the door.

"And, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again-"

Bruce growled, "It shouldn't have even occurred in the first place."

"Right," Steve murmured, nodding repeatedly. "I never meant for it to happen. I just," He risked glancing over at Tony, who was playing with his hands, listening silently. "Need him. Miss him. Wanted to talk things through with him."

"If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who-"

"Left him." Bucky finished, sparing a glance towards Steve that surprisingly looked disapproving. "And I don't agree with that. Howard's kid-"

" _Tony_." Bruce rectified immediately, glaring towards both super soldiers. "His name is Tony Stark, and he's nothing like Howard."

Bucky had a curious glint in his eye at Bruce's words, glancing back at Steve, who merely nodded once, mouth a grim line. The dark haired super soldier left it at that, nodding once, noting Tony, who had his head down, eyes averted anxiously.

"That's what I was getting at. Tony's smart, like I've never seen. He's good at making people angry-"

"I'm good at _getting_ angry, so you better make your point before you piss me off even more."

"Tony was just being rude, _understandably rude_ ," Bucky rectified immediately, Bruce's skin mellowing out a bit. "to Steve, and I'm so used to defending him-"

"So you did what I nearly did." Bruce finished, voice curt but less furious. Bruce met Tony's eyes, and the genius nodded, looking relieved that his best friend was calming down; Tony didn't agree with the methods the two super soldiers had used, didn't agree with what they'd done, but he'd _never_ wish them dead or hurt.

"Yes." Steve cut in, "That's exactly what happened."

Tony smiled softly to Bruce from the corner of the room, gesturing down at the pair of pants folded in his lap. "Guess I won't get to snap any nude pics _today_." He sighed, "Ugh, why do you always gotta ruin the fun, Brucie?"

Bruce's entire demeanor changed, gone was the green. His smile returned as he retreated back to his best friend. He gestured towards Tony's neck, running a hand through the genius' hair.

"Lets get some ice on that, then we can all sit down and talk."

"Yes, Brucie, of course. As long as by ice you mean popsicle and by popsicle you mean a Bomb Pop."

Steve's insides hurt; he remembered when he used to bring Tony Bomb Pops, his favorite when the reactor was particularly painful, simply because it was easy to get down. Bucky must've noticed his discomfort at seeing the two geniuses bond, resting a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder.

"That's _exactly_ what I meant."

"But..." Tony predicted, standing next to Bruce, leaning his head against the older man's shoulder.

"But, next time anything like this happens and you don't notify someone, you'll be in trouble."

"Oooh, _trouble_." Tony teased, smacking Bruce's ass. "You're kind of hot when you get angry Brucie, green's definitely your color."

Bucky leaned in close to Steve, smirk wide as he pushed his best friend closer to his ex. "Didn't realize your fella was such a catch; sorry about freaking out on 'em. Gonna have to get him back, you know. New plan, we'll hash it out, maybe some good ol' conversatin', eh?"

Steve sighed as Tony hung off of Bruce's arm, looking as adorably sweet as always; it hurt Steve to think of Tony not by his side, especially since he had his best friend back, safe and sound - Tony was the missing puzzle piece, and if he had to explain everything and apologize for infinity, then he would. Steve would do anything to get him back, especially after he took him for granted all those months back. "Yeah, Buck. I am. I _will_."

 


	5. Falling, Again, Ever So Often: Sketching Silence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extremist group decided to attack downtown Manhattan on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Tony was fighting for his life, both of his partners perched beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update, my Monday decided to be just that, and I had technical difficulties. I would like to say thank you to all of the support (and outrage in the comments, that was really great, made me laugh), here's another chapter! 
> 
> Please, no hate. I know (and am happy) that everyone is really passionate, but this is how the story had been written beforehand (I added a bit in editing to fit a couple of my commenters). The Bucky/Tony/Steve tag has been there since the beginning, so I can say that the three will end up together, despite Steve's mistakes.
> 
> Anyway, if anyone wants me to write them a specific story (anything, really), I'll take requests and look them over to see if it'd be possible. I know that this story may not go in the direction that everyone wants or expects, but it is an original idea, therefore not everyone's cup of tea. I appreciate everyone who has read and enjoyed it, nonetheless, and I hope that you continue to do so!

5.

It took a little six months to get Tony back - even so, Tony wasn't fully his, not anymore, not ever; Steve had fucked up with Bucky and it'd left it's imprint on their relationship. But, things were getting better, evolving even, and that was better than their relationship degrading into nothingness, so the blonde couldn't complain - didn't have the right. Not after how he'd left things.

His husband was, in fact, turning into _his_ husband again, little by little; of course, it wasn't like before. Their marriage was a practicality, a PR nightmare in the beginning, and a literal one after Bucky reemerged; divorcing now would tear the world apart, so the two had agreed to stay legally married, even if Tony (and most of all Steve) believed that the blonde didn't have the right to hold that title; even Bucky, Steve's most loyal confidant, had agreed, and if that hadn't stung the captain.

Tony had allowed them both (which was a shock to the two super soldiers) to stay at the tower, and Steve was sure Fury had done some coercing, because despite everything, Fury shipped them the hardest, like they were his most prized possessions; Steve had gotten a coarse reprimanding when Fury had found out about the two of them (and a punch to the jaw as a threat, which had hurt so bad that it'd made Steve wonder if _Fury_ wasn't a super soldier - rather than a protective father figure to Tony), which only solidified the fact that Fury cared - about Tony, most of all, which was what was needed.

Steve was reinstated as team leader and the Avengers were considered a fully intertwined force once again. Bucky was being investigated by SHIELD to determine if he was eligible to join them, until then, he stayed on the side lines. Tony had even opened up to the notion of Bucky, and the two were getting closer.

Steve's husband had turned into _his_ husband again; generally speaking, of course, in any other way that two people should be married, bound at the heart and soul, they were lacking.

Tony was closer to Bucky than he was Steve, and that might've been the only thing they'd ever agree upon again.

But Tony was in his life.

Steve had planned on that, counted on it, because he wouldn't want to live a life without Tony, despite what he had done before to get Bucky back. Tony was an equal to Bucky, and the time he and Bucky had spent apart had muddled his mind; it'd amplified Bucky's position in his mind, and he'd dropped Tony to get to him, he'd left _everything_ for Bucky.

Afterwards he hadn't really known what to do. He'd thought about his nirvana, where he and Bucky and Tony were together, peaceful and safe and _happy_. Steve had never noticed how close Bucky and Tony were comparatively, their personalities, their demeanors; it was as if he had two of the same beings, both of which were narcissistic.

This led to them being drawn to each other, and now, Steve could only watch on in amusement (it was especially hysterical when Tony built the super soldier a completely revamped prosthetic, although Bucky wouldn't stop slapping, and in turn, breaking things). He tried not to let the jealousy get to him, but like anything negative, it wormed its way through his mind, leaving dirty tracks in its wake.

It was unfathomable, the way his life had turned out.

Bucky and Tony in the same tower, laughing and healing under the careful eyes of their captain - the same man who was torn up with guilt anytime Tony looked at him with distrust or the moments when Bucky glanced at him with his _I can't believe you left something - someone - so beautiful_ face anytime the two were around the genius.

Troubling, that was Steve's life. But he'd deal. He'd have to deal, because any other option would end with him being alone, and no matter how heroic people had made him out to be, he was the same selfish human everyone else was deep down inside; he didn't want to be alone, who would?

Again, troubling.

Of course, trouble followed Tony like a shadow, and this time, it wouldn't be so merciful.

\---

Months later, things took a turn for the worst, despite the fact that Bucky and Steve (the blonde was still on the outskirts of the relationship, like a bystander watching the two most important people in his life fall in love) and Tony were together - which, wow, how could anyone predicted _that_ one? They were together and they were in love and things were _working_ (as well as something as dysfunctional as the three of them could). The Avengers hadn't been dispatched in a while, their team was growing more trustful of each other with each passing day, though Tony hadn't officially forgiven Steve, he'd asked him politely, coldly almost, to never do what he'd had the nerve to do before.

Steve would do anything to meet those simple demands.

Unfortunately, other forces had thought that to be hysterical, because if Steve couldn't leave Tony, the only other option would be the reverse; Tony would leave Steve (because this was how life went, just when everything smoothed out, a bump arose, rearing it's _ugly fucking head),_ and it wouldn't be a choice, it'd be through some sort of threat.

Steve had chosen to leave Tony, but Tony would never choose to leave Steve, he'd never choose for Steve to leave (because despite everything the memory of their past love and friendship, filled with so much trust and adoration, had left a scar atop the left side of Tony's chest, and he'd never be able to get rid of it); there was a certain vulnerability in that fact, and it hurt to ever think about crushing Tony again, whether it be directly or inadvertently.

Sometimes threats weren't supernatural. Sometimes people, average and passionate people, did deranged things; this is how things like abandoning a spouse or even terrorism is birthed.

An extremist group decided to attack downtown Manhattan on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Tony was fighting for his life, both of his partners perched beside him.

It'd started out as nothing but strategic attacks towards some of the bigger buildings, a distraction, they would discover in hindsight. The tops of a few buildings - all abandoned and in the process of being built from the ground up - were blown up. Civilians scattered, the cops were called, the world was bustling from the news; but _nobody_ had died.

This should've been taken into account and examined before the team had launched off into battle.

Fury called them in three minutes after the first explosion had gone off. The team had been dispatched and had gotten there in less than two minutes; the Avengers tower stood in the middle of it, stepping out of their front door meant stepping into a presumed war zone.

Bucky had suited up on Fury's orders, because the suspected group had numbers and the Avengers did not; they needed all the eyes they could get, and only Bucky and Steve (and Tony, at one point, but Fury luckily didn't mention _that)_ had ever really been in a war zone.

The local PD had cleared civilians within five minutes, but the explosions kept coming at random intervals, seemingly set off by ghosts. Only Jarvis could detect their body heat, but it seemed as if most of the bombs were set off by remote control. By the time the team had gotten fifteen into custody, another thirty had popped up, leaving the team perplexed as explosions wracked the space around them.

"Wait," Tony had muttered, standing next to Bucky and Clint. "We're in New York."

"Yeah, Tony- _Iron Man_ ," Bucky replied through the coms, seemingly confused. "You feeling okay, fella?"

"Sewers. The sewers." Tony zipped away, hovering mere inches above the ground. "I think I know where they're coming from, the enemy. New York has tons of underground tunnels-"

Natasha grimaced, "Subways."

Tony's sigh was audible through the coms, and Steve frowned in worry, murmuring encouragingly.

"Com'on, any ideas?"

Steve's husband remained silent, and the blonde spotted him a few miles away, bright red suit sparkling in the sun; Tony was still, scanning the area, thinking and problem solving.

Bucky sent Steve a little look when Tony started humming through the open com (something the smaller man did when he was lost in thought), smiling towards Tony, shaking his head in amusement despite the situation; their genius was adorably quirky and most definitely smart enough to save the day (it reminded Steve of the past, so much so that it hurt - he was forced to look away in order to remain focused).

Speed would be their issue; disarming how ever many bombs were placed around them before they were set off _and_ stopping the terrorists in the first place would've been a challenge had they known what they were up against.

Tony finally slumped visibly in his suit, head cocked.

"There could be hundreds of them, hundreds of bombs. They're not surfacing until they're needed, damage control, smart. Jarvis can't scan through the ground, too thick, I can't track them until I go under-" Tony murmured, Jarvis searching for any body heat as he flew near the entrance of a subway tunnel.

"That's it." Tony whispered, "More of them don't come out until we incapacitate the ones already above ground. Anytime someone is above ground, a bomb goes off."

Clint rubbed at his forehead. "Just like Jarvis and the scanner. They have to be above ground to get a signal in order to set off-"

"The bombs." Bucky finished, a nasty taste in his mouth. "I gotta bad feelin' 'bout this-"

Tony was already bolting into action, "If the explosions are set off by remote signals maybe Jarvis can follow them and I can figure out how to disarm the bombs before anything else is destroyed-"

Bruce rang in from the Helicarrier above them, "But what's their end goal. They haven't demanded anything, haven't even released anything other than their name, which points back to some anti-government organization. What do they want? To assert power, dominance, to instill fear, to vandalize the city? This seems a little too intricate. I mean, they've got people, one after the other, willing to risk their lives to set off these bombs-"

If only they had paid more attention to Bruce's words.

"Manhole covers, tunnel entrances," Tony muttered out, "Block them off, put cars on top of 'em, anything to slow down the explosions until we can figure out what they're after and how to stop them."

"It's not a good idea to go under, especially if we're going in blind. So go on, Bucky and I will take the east end-" Steve's orders were interrupted by a thundering boom, reminiscent of Thor's extravagant entrances.

Instead of a lightning bolt crashing down against the earth, the team watched as a building was split in two.

The building directly above Steve's left shoulder.

Tony was the first to react, flying as fast as he could to his husband. Steve was shielding himself against the rubble falling around him, but the panicked civilians who had been there minutes before had left everything, including their vehicles. It was difficult to maneuver his way out of the maze of an abandoned city, and Steve had _felt_ death looming.

(He had thought, maybe this was it, maybe he died right in front of everyone, maybe he deserved it, maybe this was what he deserved; he thought about Tony and Bucky and everyone he'd ever loved and he managed to mouth out the single word, the word that held so much regret and longing - Sorry.

Steve was sorry, he wasn't a bad man, just a confused one who couldn't get his priorities straight, and in the process he had hurt people, lost people, and now, after all of this time, he was about to lose everything; he was about to lose his life.

The thought wasn't as scary as it should've been.)

Something about the shadow of a heavy slab of concrete falling towards him with incredible speed told him that the fight was escalating; the threat was greater than ever before, and the dormant attackers were making a stand.

Steve hopped over another car in what he thought was a fruitless attempt to survive when a strong metallic arm wrapped around his midsection, slinging him out of the way.

A flash of white hit his eyes before he felt himself instinctively sitting upwards from where he lain on the road; his ears were ringing, and the world seemed far too peaceful and quiet in the middle of the destruction - it was paradoxical, and he wished, for a brief second, that he could sketch the scene.

That he could sketch silence.

He landed among rubble, Clint reaching him first. The entire street had been blocked by the pile of rubbish that had been a building moments before, and Steve couldn't believe his eyes as he coughed harshly, rubbing at them, waving away the dust all around him. Clint handed him a bandana and he placed it around his mouth, looking around for the suit.

"Where's Tony?" Steve screamed into the crackling com unit, listening as tiny pebbles crumbled down the newly developed mountain in front of them. He coughed once again, Clint rummaging around the destruction surrounding them. "I repeat, where is Tony!? Does anyone have a visual?!"

He listened with a shattered heart as Natasha's voice broke through the static, and she sounded angry, angry at _him_. "He, he saved you. I saw him go down. It was too late-"

" _Don't_ you dare say _that_." Steve gritted out, rushing towards the pile, limping heavily; his entire body hurt, and his head was bleeding. It was hard to think straight. He felt Clint's hands on his shoulders, nudging him towards medical a few yards away.

"Cap, go, uh, go to Coulson. We'll, we'll find him." Clint seemed hesitant to speak, tears in his eyes; Steve didn't think it was from the dust.

Bucky's voice rose above the mountain, and Steve perked up. "Cap, just go, get patched up 'fore you throw up. I'll look for him."

Steve met his eyes through a couple of cracks in the rock, his best friend's bulbs so honest it hurt; Bucky hadn't said he'd _find him_ , he'd look, and that was the best idea Steve had heard all day.

Steve felt weak, he'd failed Tony before, and here he was again, leaving him to the wolves; pathetic.

The blonde felt his vision go hazy as he collapsed to his knees, blood trickling down his face, sobs wracking his frame.

A single name was croaked before he fell unconscious.

"Tony."

\---

"You think it's funny." Tony coughed a bit, his lungs dusty from being trapped under all of that rubble. "You think it's funny that you saved me, sp-specifically you."

Bucky held Tony's hand with his fleshy one, smiling down at the man; Steve had gone down to get them lunch, and in the meantime, Tony had decided to wake from his three day slumber.

Bucky had never been happier to tell Steve that they'd need three meals instead of two.

"I don't think anything about that day was funny,"

"Except?"

"Except for the part where you nearly died savin' _Steve's_ life and still managed to get in trouble. While unconscious." Bucky chuckled wetly, tears choking his words. "Steve wouldn't stop threatenin' you, even while he was gettin' stitched up. Kept sayin' how he was going to lock you 'way the minute you were well."

Tony waggled his eyebrows, looking up and down Bucky's frame. "'S long as I've got _you_ locked up with me-"

The door to his hospital suite opened, three green hospital trays coming into view as Steve rushed into the room.

"Tony?"

Tony looked into his bright blue eyes, grinning as well as he could, even if it looked like a grimace; he'd broken over twelve bones and had sustained a major head injury, but the pain meds were doing their job and he had both of his soldiers to keep him company.

"Steve."

The blonde practically threw the trays onto the closest table, shoving himself next to Tony's free side with impatient but gentle ministrations. He grabbed Tony's cast clad hand as slowly and carefully as he could, smiling when he didn't injure his husband any further.

"How're you feeling?"

Tony groaned a bit, head lolling to the side lazily, "If 'm being honest, Steve, _not very nice_."

(Silence fell over the room and again, Steve wished he could put it to canvas. A single phrase, a single memory, had nearly lightened his mood completely; and it was selfish to take those words and use them, to let Tony make _him_ feel better. So Steve bowed his head in an almighty apology, hoping that Tony would get the memo, because he so badly wanted the man to know that he was everything, he had been everything and nothing all at once and that was wrong.

Tony deserved to be someone's everything, and as Steve watched Bucky stroke his head and pepper him with kisses, he couldn't help but feel as though he'd brought Tony _his_ replacement. But maybe that's what was needed, so Steve willed the courage to look up again, and he kept the torture and agony off of his face - it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, besides leave Tony and stand on the sidelines as Bucky stole Tony's heart.)

Tony looked over at his husband, towards Steve's blinding smile and tearful gaze; it was so beautiful and reminiscent of the past that it was worth the corny reference, and it felt something like forgiveness, like the beginning of the end.

It was terrifying, to put his trust in another being that he would've - _still_ would, if the other day was anything to go by - died for.

But Bucky was here now, too, and that was worth the uncomfortableness, the painful memories; as long as Tony could start anew, make fresh memories - it was worth it to have both parts of him, the one that had been open and softer with Steve, and himself now, more guarded and precautious (understandably after everything that had happened) with Bucky, but still so trustworthy of the man who he had given an arm to.

And it was worth it, Tony thought, his bones aching. It was worth it because he had loved Steve and love didn't _disappear_ , it evolved; and now it looked as though he was starting to fall headfirst for Bucky. Falling straight into a complicated web, full of uncertainties and risks; and that was life, it was troubling at times.  

But it'd always be worth the trouble.

 


	6. Fragile Masculinity & A Firework Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Steve."
> 
> "No. No. Tony I did not mean to do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get enough prompts (for drabbles or one shots of course, nothing too elaborate unless you want to request a completely different fic - which is cool too) I'll add on bonus chapters. So far many people want to see the sparring session Steve was given (kudos to Clint and Natasha), so that'll be the first thing I'll attack when I get to it. Make sure to subscribe so you'll be notified when I update! 
> 
> Thanks to all of those who've supported me and the creation/development of this fic. I really, really appreciate it! I've had a blast, and the comments have been really involved, so that was great too. 
> 
> FOR THOSE WHO MAY THINK THAT STEVE GOT OFF TOO EASILY - I decided that beating his ass multiple times would be boarder line abusive and slightly immature, so I decided to imagine myself as a mature adult (sixteen over here, yo). Most adults that I know do not hash out their problems with fists and blood, so the thing I personally believe is worth, is emotional torture; Steve gets to stick around, but he's an outsider, and he's watching the two people he loved the most love each other (and for you hopeful little beans out there, just remember, things can always get better, no one is exempt, not even Steve). 
> 
> I thought it was powerful enough to tear someone apart, so I decided to leave it there (deep right?). 
> 
> Anyway. I hope that you're satisfied, because I am. This is the end of my long author's note, so you can go to the actual content - if you skipped this you're already there. 
> 
> I ALSO THREW AN MCR REFERENCE (TONY SAYS HE'S NOT OOOOOKAY) I THOUGHT IT WAS HILARIOUS. SORRY. 
> 
> Fan girl out.

+1

Tony was as red as his suit, hands fisted at his sides, looking as if he was going to stroke out as he gazed over the two in front of him.

" _Steve."_

"No. _No_. Tony I did not _mean_ to do _that_."

Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he held up his limp prosthetic arm, watching the sparks dance out of it, like fish jumping out of the water.

Tony could only stare in horror as he clutched himself tightly, a hand covering his mouth.

"But _you_ did." Tony whispered out, nearing his partners as they sat at the communal dining room table, arms still perched in arm-wrestling position. "You ruined one of my greatest creations over a _game_ based on the stupid fragility of your guys' _fucking masculinity!"_

Tony was pacing back and forth in front of the table, clutching at his hair; he'd already been sleep deprived before this little debacle and had merely resurfaced to hunt for some takeout or coffee (of which wasn't as thick as tar or spotted white and green with mold).

He'd walked in on Bucky (which wouldn't have been a bad thing, he would admit that he'd missed the man), grin mile wide as he _held_ his prosthetic arm _up_ with his fleshy arm, and Steve (who he was always balancing on a thin rope with _anyway_ ), looking as if he was warring between hysterics (like Bucky, who was _cackling)_ and panic.

Tony hadn't _expected_ to feel any homicidal urges, but he was back-logged with projects already, and Pepper was riding him hard (harder than Bucky, gods know why he'd been part of the Howling Commandos - the sounds Tony had made were ones that _he'd_ never heard before). Tony didn't have time to do maintenance on Bucky's arm, and it the team got called into action, or he wanted the _use_ of his _fucking hand_ , he wouldn't be able to.

"Tony?" Bucky had noticed that the others weren't nearly as amused by this as he was, and had seemed confused, like a little boy who had drawn his mother a picture on the wall with Sharpie - expecting it to be praised like a Picasso. "You... _okay_ , fella?"

Tony seethed, shaking his head as he paced, both hands in his hair now. "No, Bucky, I am _not okay_. Your arm took me _three days_ to fabricate, and now that Steve has _snapped it in half at the fucking elbow_ , I'm going to have to replace all of the wiring in-"

Steve flinched, looking as though he should pack his bags for the second time and leave for good.

"Can't you just like," Steve started, grimacing at his own words as he looked at the arm apologetically, "duct tape it, or?"

Tony looked as if he was going to gag, but instead opted for a viciously disgusted scoff. "You did _not_ just- oh my lords. Somebody needs to strap me down before I rip off his arm _completely_ and hit _you two over the head with it-"_

"I personally think that'd be counterproductive, but I'm biased, seeing as though it's both my arm and head that'll take the brunt. But whatever will make you feel better babe, really."

Tony hissed.

"Do _not babe_ me. You two are in trouble, specifically _you_ , Steven. _What_ in the fuck were you thinking?!"

Steve's reply was immediate, and he hadn't had to think of it beforehand, but he winced as the words came; he probably should've thought about it. It only proved Tony's earlier point.

"That I'd beat Bucky."

Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he paced a little faster, "Stupid, stupid masculinity." He muttered, looking over both soldiers, who were doing their best impression of kicked kittens. Tony stomped his foot, angry at the lack of reaction coming from them (then again, at this point he was upset if they breathed too loudly - their entire existence at the moment was nothing but a hindrance). "I'm about to _beat_ you."

Bucky smirked, sending Steve a look, "Ooh, kinky."

"You _idiots_ -"

"Hey!" Bucky falsified outrage, gesticulating with his prosthetic, the limb limply flinging outwards, sparks flying. The super soldier snorted and giggled like two school boys as he jiggled his arm up and down; Steve had a pleading look on his face - he knew what Tony was like when one of his works got ruined in some ridiculous (and _completely_ avoidable) manner, Bucky did _not_ , and his reaction only certified that fact.

"Look, it's a firework show, like on the Fourth of July."

Bucky helicoptered his arm around, creating little sparks of fireworks with a grin. "Happy early Birthday, Stevie."

Tony stomped his foot down, shaking his head sternly, "No, _no_ birthday, no fireworks, just _stop-"_

Tony watched on in absolute petrification as Bucky's arm detached and was sent flying across the room, sparking weakly on the ground as it twitched.

The room fell silent, and Tony could only laugh humorlessly, looking deranged as he glanced over his partners and then back to the arm.

"Now, _now_ you're _both_ in trouble."

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end it on a positive (humorous) note, because I like leaving a story with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. I'd like to thank you for reading, once more. Subscribe to me personally or to this series to get more TonyWhump and other stories. Thanks again! (:

**Author's Note:**

> Have a great day!


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